Death's Muse

Chapter Two;

 The following evening, Mikey was waiting eagerly for the arrival of his model, and at six in the evening, just as they had planned, the strange man arrived outside the front door of Mikey's home. When Mikey answered the door, he saw Frank standing on the steps. Frank was wearing a large coat, scarf, hat, hood and sunglasses, and his hand was wrapped around a red leash where his large husky was attached at the end. The only visible part of his skin was his chin and lips which curled into a small smirk when he saw Mikey at the front door. 

"Ah, Mikey," He greeted as Mikey opened the door to allow Frank to enter. Frank stepped into the large home and immediately began to remove his layers and layers of clothing. "I had been waiting all day eagerly until the evening," Frank said in his usual slow and calm demeanor. Mikey watched, his eyes wide, as Frank continued to remove layer after layer, placing them on the coat rack to the right. "Work was torturous... All I could think about the whole day was seeing you," Frank let out a soft gasp as he finally pulled of his coat, laying it on the rack.

Mikey blushed slightly. "O-Oh yeah?" He mumbled uncomfortably as Frank stretched his arms. Beneath the coat, Frank was wearing a white dress shirt, grey vest and pants, and a red tie. He looked positively, for lack of a better word, snazzy. The dim light gleamed off of his reddish brown eyes, and they almost glittered. Mikey didn't say anything though, and he directed his eyes towards the floor for a moment uncomfortably. He could hear Frank walk around towards the rest of the house.

"I'm really quite curious of your house, Mr. Way, and I would absolutely adore it if you would be so kind as to show me around," He said, his voice practically radiating the sense of propierity the man seemed to thrive in. Mikey really liked that, but he wasn't sure why. He could tell Frank was smart just by looking at him. It wasn't that way with Armando. Mikey took a step forward, nearly tripping over the large dog.

"I could show you around if you want," Mikey offered nervously. He wasn't sure he liked that idea, but he also wasn't sure about just telling Frank to strip without any sort of small talk or conversation. That seemed... Wrong. Frank turned back towards Mikey, a very stunning smile on his face. He obviously liked the sounds of that.

"That would be wonderful," Frank said, stepping off towards the rest of the house, the dog following obediently. Mikey wasn't sure about how he felt about such a large animal bounding through his home. Mikey showed Frank around the mansion he had inherited. Mikey really did love his home. It was spacious and rather crowded with furniture and objects of differing colors and designs. Mikey was incredibly proud of the eccentric style he had developed. His house was a patchwork mixture between two styles. Old and new, and Mikey really enjoyed that. His home was probably the only place on earth he truly felt at peace, like he lived on his own little planet.

After the concise tour, Mikey stopped when they reached the basement turned painting studio. Various works in progress were laying along the walls, waiting to be grazed with Mikey's brush again, even though now they probably never would. The large husky bumbled along and found a corner it liked, curling up with a sigh. During the night, Mikey had turned the easel to face a corner, pulled up an old, white Victorian sofa with red curtains as a backdrop. It looked nice enough. The lighting was decent. He only hoped Frank would like it. 

"This is where we'll probably be... Uh... Painting," Mikey offered, gesturing towards the sofa. Frank smirked, eyeing the set up as he stepped forward. There was a certain glint in his eyes that told Mikey he liked it, and he was pleased. Mikey was about to speak and give the awkward directions when Frank stepped forward on his own and stripped his nice clothes from his body. All of them.

Mikey's mouth dropped open. He didn't even have to ask. Realizing how stupid he must look, Mikey slammed his mouth shut with a pop, blinking towards the floor, but the image of Frank's bare back was burned into his brain. He was beautiful, like a Greek God. His body chiseled like marble. Veins barely pushed out against the porcelain skin. His WHOLE body was perfect. Absolutely perfect.